Words by

Sindri Eldon

I have always admired him, always found him to have a mysterious magnetism that surpasses his general amiability. And sitting there, watching him, hypnotized by his fraying dreadlocks swinging as he drunkenly attempted the drum fill to Nirvana´s In Bloom, I of course realized what it was: he represented everything I recognized my native generation by. He had it all; the throwback taste, the sporty-but-not-sport clothes, the intense desire to socialize but the quiet intensity of a loner, you know, that sort of turn of the century hippie who believes everyone can get along provided everyone is heard. But most important of all was his lack of direction. He liked music, but that scene just wasn´t for him. He was a fair athlete, but organized sport bored him. He had no discerable criticisms and no obvious passions besides getting stoned or drunk or having a good time. At the same party, I heard someone complain that his best friend was giving too many speeches, and that his need to make the night memorable was preventing it from being fun. My girlfriend agreed with the complainer, saying that she really wanted to dance. I jolted upstairs to hear the speech, and it was indeed very boring stuff.
“I just wanted to say how thankful I am for being here with all these great people, and I just wanted to remind everyone how lucky we are to live at such a time, when complete strangers give one an oppertunity to come to their house and have such a wonderfully enjoyable experience.”
It struck me as something the captain of a sinking ship might say, of someone who knows his final oppurtunity to make a difference is running out. He is too obsessed with giving his time significance to actually experience it.
And maybe this is the revolution everyone is really waiting for. The death of the kind of person who entails any signifigance whatsoever to what is going on around him. Perhaps it is people like The Drummer and My Girlfriend who represent the first of the new breed, people that don´t care which album is best, or if they will remember what happens tonight, or if they will ever make a difference.
The people who are always saying that it is time for something new are the ones who will fall when nothing happens. Their time is simply over. It is not revolution that is coming, but social extinction. The only choices are adapt or fall into a rut that will end with social exile and a lifetime of bitterness. Because one day the happy-go-lucky generation will be running not only the country, but the world, by the looks of it.